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An Ode to Forgetting One’s AirPodsA poem

An Ode to Forgetting One’s AirPods

A man and his dog. My dog and I.
We walk the quotidian streets—
a six-legged, leash-linked crea­ture
on a synco­pated voyage of explo­ration.

He scans a scenery invis­ible to me,
of smells and sounds, soil and spit.
I (the jaded one, the sapiens sapiens)
already know roads, build­ings, signs;
I prefer to enter a blue-toothed world
popu­lated by voices cast into pods.

So it goes, day by day.

Then the bubble reveals itself by breaking.
In a momen­tary lapse of routine,
the fruity white gadgets are aban­doned.
(On a shelf, in a drawer—who knows?)
Outside, a cacophony of subtleties
pours into the liber­ated space of mind.

A crow screeches. A plane gently rumbles
behind clouds. The laughter of a child.
Car doors closing. A bark, a meow.
The fading rattle of an old bicycle.

Paw-steps on grass, on sand. Vaguely,
a tramcar in the distance. Birdsong.
The crackle of dry twigs. A chuckle.
A young heron swoops from a street­light,
sound­lessly.